i've been trying to reach you
by wolfsmouth
Summary: After a certain point, Carlos starts to wonder whether it's something unspoken between them, or something that only he feels. (Cecil/Carlos fluff, with just the tiniest dash of angst)


The first real issue in their relationship builds slowly. After a certain point, Carlos starts to wonder whether it's something unspoken between them, or something that only he feels. He writes down his observations, trying to find a pattern or hint, something that said one way or the other. It feels irrational and he feels like he should be able to sit down and solve the problem scientifically. But even science can't explain everything.

When he thinks rationally, he knows he should have expected Cecil to be so vocal; all data pointed to that. After all, Carlos listened to him disclose details of their relationship to everyone in town, even before they had a relationship. Cecil spilled his heart to friends and strangers alike on a weekly basis. It was logical that he'd do the same in their relationship. And it wasn't that Carlos closes himself off, unless he's working of course. But generally, he knows when to open up.

But, Cecil was just _so open_ when it came to saying 'I love you'. He says it before he hangs up, he says it before he leaves in the morning and again when he comes home. He says it for no reason at all, when Carlos sinks down into bed next to him and when they wash dishes. He sends it in their daily texts at lunch. He says it so much that sometimes Carlos wonders if Cecil's constantly trying to remind him they're together.

(As if Carlos could ever forget)

Carlos, on the other hand, uses it sparingly. He'd rather say the words in a kiss, a touch, a meaningful but mundane gesture. In a discreet packed lunch or a walk around town. He's worried Cecil doesn't get it, doesn't understand that Carlos fears somehow negating the words.

That vocalizing them enough would make them entirely meaningless and rote. Mechanical. Average.

Because, while their relationship is entirely average, at least in Night Vale, there's nothing average about Cecil (even for Night Vale). Cecil deserved so much more, but Carlos was never sure he could make that clear. The words start to die in his throat almost every time he tries to tell Cecil, so he lets them.

Carlos feels inadequate. He doesn't know if it's a Night Vale thing to be so vocal; he wouldn't be surprised considering people disappear in horrific, unspeakable ways on a regular basis, and not everyone comes back. But it could just as easily be a Cecil thing. Scientifically, he knows he should just observe families and couples around town, take notes about how everyone interacts, but it feels invasive, rude. Even asking someone he knows well seems out of the question.

What he knows is that it hurts to think that Cecil doesn't know how he feels, how much he's loved. Sometimes when Carlos doesn't say it back he can see the frown Cecil tries to hide when they pull away from a goodbye kiss. Or the surprise flash across his face on the rare occasion Carlos says it unprompted. And it just doesn't sit right with him.

Today he manages a "you too" and hopes his grip on Cecil's shoulder, the carefully packed salad in his bag, the blushing emoji he replies with can say what he can't. But he knows it won't, that it could never convey any of it.

* * *

The thoughts nag at him all day, disturbing his work. Usually science could distract him from feelings, but today he can barely make out the numbers on his thermometer through his haze of worry. His colleagues send him concerned looks every so often. After lunch, where he was so out of it that he nearly bit his notepad, Dave and Rochelle finally break and ask him if he's alright. Carlos considers letting them in, asking if he's weird, even opening his mouth to say the words. But he thinks better of it.

Instead, he frowns and shakes his head. He lets his eyebrows furrow and says no, he's alright. Don't worry. All these rocks are just very confusing.

* * *

When Cecil comes home that night, Carlos is curled up on the couch, still thinking. Cecil kicks off his shoes, sets down his bag, and comes over to him. He buries his face into Carlos' neck and breathes "I love you" deep into his skin. Cecil sounds serene, but Carlos frowns as something clenches tight in his chest. "Cecil, I, I…"

But Cecil beats him to it with a hand on his cheek and a warm smile on his face. "I know."

Carlos puts his hand on top of Cecil's, and almost lets it go. But the words spill out anyway, more forceful then he intended. "No. I don't know if you really do. I mean, how could you? You say it all the time and I barely say it, and it's not fair."

Cecil looks at him and frowns momentarily. "Carlos, it's a relationship, not a _contest._"

"I know that. It's just. I feel like you don't know. Don't know that I," his voice falters and softens "I love you, Cecil. I love you."

Cecil smiles softly. He pulls their hands into his lap and laces their fingers together, leaning into Carlos' side. "I know. It's alright, I always know."

And, as he mouths the words into Cecil's hair, Carlos finally feels that thing in his chest go slack.


End file.
